Black Heart Blue (12 page)

I was getting used to the folks at the care home too; they meant no harm and sometimes, if I waited long enough, one of them might open their eyes and look at me and for a moment I’d see who they might once have been. One old lady who was nearly a hundred had eyes the brightest blue. They shone in her face, sharp, blinking stars, and I knew she was thinking things she couldn’t say. I sat and held her hand whenever I had a minute and she liked it, I could tell. Today I found a pile of books in the day room, someone must have donated them and they’d been plonked on a coffee table, just sitting there doing nothing. They weren’t classics or anything special, but they were books none the less, stories, pages with words. I decided I was going to read them all. Maybe I would read
them aloud to my new friend, I thought she might like it.

As I work I make plans. Danny, the chef, always laughs at me and asks me what I’m daydreaming about. The first time he spoke to me I blushed.

‘It’s all right, love, I don’t bite!’

I dropped my eyes and inched away, but every so often I plucked up the courage to stop and talk to him a bit. He listened when I told him about Cyrilla, the blue-eyed lady, and said he would make sure he did her favourite more often. She couldn’t really chew so we had to mash everything up, but I knew she liked his roast beef, roast potatoes and gravy best. She never spat that out.

‘So, what’s a nice young girl doing in a place like this, then?’ Danny asked me as I was helping him with the veg for lunch. Somehow he had engineered it so that I had been moved off toilets and into the kitchen. It took ages, peeling, slicing, chopping, but it was definitely more fun than scrubbing the loos. I shrugged.

‘How old are you, love?’

‘Seventeen.’

‘Well, shouldn’t you be at college or something? My lad, Archie, he’s just turned sixteen now, he’s doing his GCSEs. He’s planning on staying on after, getting some more qualifications. You don’t want to spend your life chopping veg, do you?’

‘No. I don’t.’ I looked guiltily around, hoping no one had heard me. I didn’t want them to think I was being ungrateful.

‘So? Get out there, get yourself to college, find something you like doing and go for it.’

‘I tried. I wasn’t any good.’

‘What at?’

‘Maths.’

He laughed. ‘There’s more to life than Maths, you know.’

‘Not just that. The other kids, the teachers, they didn’t like me. I didn’t fit in.’

‘Look.’ Danny stopped what he was doing and came and stood next to me. I stared into his broad chest. Then he gripped my shoulders so I had to turn my eyes up to his face and meet his gaze. It was incredibly kind.

‘It don’t matter how you look, love. Those kids, they act funny maybe, but you’ve got to give ’em a chance. My youngest, Ben, he’s Down’s. He goes to school and he’s got loads of mates. Don’t give up on your life. All right?’

I felt the tears start to well, and hung my head so he wouldn’t see. If Danny had been my dad then things would have been different. I would have been different.

‘Look,’ he said. ‘It’s a big world out there and this is a small place. Small town, small minds. You can be bigger than this. OK?’ He patted me on my shoulder, kindly, with his big paw. I gave him a smile through the tears, scrubbing my face with the sleeve of my jumper. ‘Now get back to those carrots!’ I smiled again and peeled away.

The next day he invited me to go to his house for lunch, to meet his kids and his wife that Sunday.

‘It’s my day off. Cheryl does a great roast. Come over, she’d love to meet you.’

I didn’t answer. It was my first invitation and what was I supposed to say? I wanted to thank him. But on Sundays I worked at home, there was the church to clean, the services to attend, the washing to do, the prayers to be said. The Mother would never let me off and, well, I wouldn’t even try asking The Father. We hadn’t spoken in over a week and it was better that way. So I just shook my head and he shrugged and tried not to look annoyed. I think I probably drive Danny mad, I bet he tells his wife I’m a wet fish, but I couldn’t explain, I didn’t have the words.

‘Some other time, then. Let me know.’

I nodded and sloped off to make myself useful somewhere, sinking sands of disappointment clutching at my ankles. That night I lay in bed wondering how I might get to go to Danny’s. Hephzi sniggers. If I couldn’t even pluck up the guts to pay someone a friendly visit then how would I ever leave this place? I told her to be quiet and she says Danny’s a stupid old bastard anyway. I decided I would have to risk it and lie.

Before

Friday I’m in knots, watching for Craig round every corner, in every class. He’s nowhere and the disappointment makes me annoyed when Rebecca pesters me back at the vicarage that night.

‘So you’re really going to go to his party, then?’

‘Yeah.’

I’m hanging out of the window gazing up at the sky. It’s full of stars. The skies here stretch forever; I wonder where he is, under which little piece of heaven. I sigh.

‘What if you get caught?’

I haven’t told her what I said to Mother. I don’t know why, it’s just I need some secrets round here, and anyway I can’t have Rebecca in my head one hundred per cent of the time. We used to tell each other everything but now things are different and she’s going to have to get used to managing without me.

‘Just cover for me, OK?’

I turn to look at her and she draws her knees up under her chin; her pyjamas are too short in the sleeves and legs, she’s all elbows and ankles and that sad face. I sigh
again and tut. She gets the message and crawls under her covers.

‘It’ll be fine, I promise. You’re not going to get into any trouble and I’m going to have a great night. Be happy for me, Reb. OK?’

She shrugs from somewhere in the blankets and mutters something I don’t hear. Who cares.

I can’t sleep for worrying though.

About midnight it suddenly occurs to me that Craig might not really be into me after all. I don’t exactly have much experience with these things, maybe I’ve read the signs all wrong, that could easily have happened. I’ll look like a right idiot then. Or it could be a joke, I’ll get there and they’ll all point at me and laugh. I sit up in bed, horrified, and almost shake Rebecca awake to ask her what she thinks. But she’s so still and peaceful for a change that I can’t disturb her. Her nightmares usually keep her up half the night; I can sleep through them, thank goodness. Instead I send myself a message to remember to play it cool, not to seem too desperate and to let him do the chasing. Samara and Daisy laugh at girls who trail after guys – they’re sad, losers, pathetic. I don’t want people saying that about me. Like Samara said: treat ’em mean, keep ’em keen.
It’ll be hard though. I just want him to like me.

Even though I’m tired in the morning it doesn’t matter. We clean and scrub the church steps and I hum as we go. Rebecca’s eyes dart crossly in my direction, she can feel my anticipation and it’s driving her crazy. I’m so excited I
almost tell her to come too, then remember what Daisy said and bite my lip. I don’t want people laughing at her. Or me. She wouldn’t know what to wear, or say, or do, and she’d hang around me the whole time. She could look better if she tried a bit harder. She’ll never be pretty or anything but really, once you’re used to her, her face isn’t that bad. Granny used to tell our parents they ought to take her to the doctors, the dentists, to hospital appointments for her hearing but they never did. Her hearing aids are old ones she got years ago when she had that fit after he hit her too hard and Mrs Sparks walked in so they
had to take her to hospital. The nurses realized she couldn’t hear and they fixed her up. Of course he charmed his way out of the whole business without much problem. People are so gullible, as soon as he tells them he’s a vicar it’s like he’s said he’s Jesus or something. In the end they fitted her out with that screw on her head and the little box which sits on it and for a while she said it was like people were shouting at her all day long. It soon got broken though, and she’s back to mostly lip-reading now. If Mother snitches on me I’m going to tell about that too, about how they won’t let my sister get her ears sorted or have her teeth done or go for surgery. I looked it up on the Internet and there are things they can do now to help people with her syndrome, things I didn’t know about and I’m sure Rebecca has no idea of. When I’m free I’ll help her, I won’t leave her behind forever. Maybe
she can even live with me and Craig, once he’s used to her, and we can be a proper family.

It doesn’t take me long to get ready. I have a bath, even though it’s not allowed on a Saturday, or any day actually. But he’s out so I can. He says a basin of cold water will suffice, the idiot. I wash my hair with the tiny bit of shampoo I have been storing up for this moment. It smells delicious. I love my hair and now it’ll look and smell as gorgeous as it should. It’s long, dark gold and wavy, even prettier than Daisy’s. I pretend to be a mermaid and let it float around my face as I stretch out under the tepid water. Rebecca watches silently as I get dressed and dry my hair, then she comes over and sniffs.

‘What’s that?’

‘Whaddya think, stupid?’

‘Where’d you get it?’

‘Samara’s.’

‘Did you steal it?’

‘Just a bit.’ I try not to let her annoy me. ‘She wouldn’t even notice, they had loads.’ The last time I was round, I’d tipped as much as I could into a little plastic container I’d nicked from the science lab specifically for the purpose and I wasn’t going to feel guilty. Why should other people have all the nice stuff? I reckon I deserve some too.

Rebecca goes quiet. She watches me.

‘Is there any left?’

I stare at her and she blushes a deep tomato red. I nod slowly, ‘Yeah, a bit, why?’

She shrugs and I root in my little bag and chuck the bottle over.

‘Here. You can have it, all right?’

‘Thanks.’ She nods and shoves the bottle under her mattress. Treasure. Rebecca’s hair’s nice too, not as thick as mine but still pretty when it’s clean and brushed. Hurrying to finish getting ready I put on the mascara, the blusher and lip gloss and turn for her assessment. She considers and then nods again.

‘You look nice.’

‘Oh, great, thanks a bunch.’

‘Well, what do you want me to say?’

‘Nothing. Forget it. I’m going now.’

‘Are you just going to walk out of the front door? Like that’s normal or something?’

‘Yes. That is precisely what I am going to do, Rebecca. See ya!’

I dash out and down the stairs, the house is quiet and I’m pretty certain my parents still aren’t in, they’re probably next door in the church or visiting a parishioner. Which makes this my perfect opportunity. I hear my sister calling to me to be careful and pick up speed.

Craig’s place isn’t far but I’m calling for Samara first and so make a little detour. I’m walking so fast that I’m almost running and I stop myself from looking back into the shadows. I keep expecting a hand to appear out of the evening gloom, to clamp itself on my shoulder and propel me back to the vicarage where it will enact its revenge. It’s no wonder I’m sweating by the time I get to Samara’s.
She’s ready and we try to dash straight off but her mum pulls us inside and gives us the third degree and makes Samara put a jumper on. But eventually we get away and run giggling down the road.

It’s only half eight when we get to Craig’s estate. I remind myself not to get drunk and puke this time, to be aloof and cool. I start forward for the house but Samara looks reluctant.

‘It’s too early.’

‘Oh. Is it?’

‘Yeah. No one gets to house parties this early.’

‘What should we do, then?’ I feel a bit silly all of a sudden.

‘Daisy’s going down the pub. Let’s see if we can find her.’

I really don’t want to do that and am just thinking how to talk her out of it when a group of lads pulls up in a car outside Craig’s house. They pile out and up the drive, disappearing into the little house, which swallows them up whole.

‘See?’ I say, gesticulating, and we go closer, hearing the steady pump and pulse of music as we approach the house.

The front door’s ajar, an open invitation, and we wend our way through the empty hall and front room into the kitchen. A couple of girls I don’t recognize are pouring wine and laughing, they look us over then turn back to their conversation.

‘Where’s Craig?’ I hiss at Samara.

‘How should I know?’ she hisses back and we stumble over the back step into the garden. Dark forms slowly morph into bodies as our eyes adjust again to the light, which is suddenly fading fast. The music’s louder here and I feel a surge of blood to my heart and my mouth goes dry as someone moves out of the shadows, walking towards us.

‘All right?’

I nod. Samara nods. Craig pauses and looks me up and down. He doesn’t say anything. Then, ‘D’you want a drink?’

‘Yeah, please.’ I’ve already forgotten that I’m supposed to be being careful, and can’t wait for him to shove the cold bottle into my hand. The liquid tastes sweet and sharp and I take one swig then another. He hands me a cigarette too and, leaning close to light his own at the same time, the flame briefly illuminates his face and he smiles quickly into my eyes. Suddenly I’m having a good time.

More people arrive and I talk to girls I know from college and others I’ve never met before. Craig introduces me to his older brother Jamie and he gives me another bottle of sweet sticky alcohol and makes me laugh about something stupid. The music’s louder and someone drags me to dance in the sitting room where disco lights are glimmering and glancing off the walls and all the furniture has been pushed to the sides of the room. I try to work out how the room really looks when it’s just a normal day and wonder how come Craig’s parents are letting him have this party. The thoughts don’t stay in my head long
enough to be more than tiny sparks firing into space and I dance with the others. Because it’s dark it doesn’t matter and I think I look as good as anyone else and work hard to copy the way they sway and move, mouthing words I don’t know, grinning and swinging my
hair, drinking from the endless supply of bottles which appear in my hand. What feels like hours later I realize I’m too hot and I struggle outside, hunting for air.